1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown
5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum
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